


I’m a Believer

by candelina



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Fairy Tale Retellings, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geraskier, Idiots in Love, M/M, Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Shrek AU, True Love's Kiss, but geralt talks with her a lot, roach doesn't talk like donkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26215933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candelina/pseuds/candelina
Summary: I’ve seen people comparing Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship with Shrek and Donkey’s – which is hilarious, don’t get me wrong – but how about Jaskier as Princess Fiona?The Witcher AU in which Geralt decides to take on what could possibly be the most well-paid job of his life. He expects it to be fairly easy, since it only involves rescuing a prince from a tower on account of this pompous noble named Lord Valdo Marx, who wants to marry the said prince. He doesn’t expect that his and Roach’s lives are about to change forever.As you may have guessed, the title is from one of the main songs from the first movie of Shrek.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 87
Kudos: 319





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been aching to write a Shrek AU of The Witcher and I wanted to demonstrate the theory according to which Jaskier would be much more suitable for the role of Princess Fiona, rather than Donkey. Let me know whether you agree after reading this.
> 
> Also, English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistake.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters (who are obviously from The Witcher, especially the TV series) and I do not own anything from movie of Shrek (from which I copied many of the dialogues, first of all because they’re so funny, and secondly because this _is_ a Shrek AU and I wanted it to be close to the original movie, more or less).

***

Roach neighed again.

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, as he looked down at the giant flow of lava at the bottom of the cliff where he and his loyal horse were standing. “I know what you’re thinking, Roach. But we have to do this. We signed a contract.”

The horse bumped the witcher’s shoulder with her head and made a sound of disagreement.

“All right, _I_ signed the contract. But don’t act like it’s not convenient for you, too.” Geralt turned to his companion and patted her gently on the neck. “We won’t have to worry about hunger or a place to sleep for a while. I could feed you all the apples you wish to eat and find you the most comfortable stables to stay at as we travel.”

This time, Roach let out a more enthusiastic whinny.

Geralt smirked. “Now, that’s what I like to hear.”

In front of them there’s an old, very rickety bridge which definitely wasn’t the kind of bridge you’d try to cross unless it was your only chance to achieve the goal that would bring you as much money as you’ve ever seen before.

_“You may die, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.”_

That lord, that Lord Valdo Marx had said before Geralt decided to take the job. He had already sent many knights to rescue the prince trapped in the tower guarded by a dragon. How someone could think to make it out of there alive, Geralt didn’t know. He couldn’t say that he wasn’t at all glad that the situation had turned out to be so desperate that the lord chose to hire a witcher.

Geralt made sure that the bridge could support their weights before letting Roach go first as they crossed it together.

“Don’t look down, Roach.”

She neighed as soon as she managed to reach the other side. 

Geralt smiled and patted her. “Well done.” Then, he looked up at the castle and sniffed the air to try to detect where the dragon could be. Unfortunately, the smell of brimstone covered everything else. They had no choice but proceed.

Inside, the place was all dark, except for the cracks through which the light of the boiling lava seeped. There were bones and pieces of armours scattered everywhere, some still had blood on them.

“We need to find the stairs.”

There was a low whinny next to him, so Geralt turned to his horse.

“You know why, Roach. The prince will be up the stairs in the highest room in the tallest tower.”

Another whinny.

“It’s part of the job to know all the useful information to achieve our goal. And, yes, I… may have read it in a book.” Geralt admitted, as he picked up a random helmet from the floor and put it on. 

Roach tilted her head as if asking what he was doing. 

“Don’t look at me like that. I just don’t want to scare the prince before we manage to get out of here.” Geralt knew from experience that it was a possibility to consider. If the prince saw his amber eyes and recognised him, there was a chance he might run away and get himself hurt or killed, which would be really inconvenient since Lord Valdo Marx had requested to bring the prince to him alive.

“Stay here, Roach. Look for the stairs, but don’t wander off.” Geralt said as he checked the rest of his armour and his sword. “I’ll handle the–”

An ear-splitting roar arose from the darkness of the castle and it was soon followed by the incandescent breath that illuminated the black stones with which the place was built.

“WATCH OUT!”

Geralt shouted as he dodged the tornado of fire that was aiming to roast them alive. As soon as the fire faded, he searched with his eyes for his horse and he found her just across the hall. Fortunately, she had a lot of hard training after many years of travelling with the witcher.

But their luck didn’t last long.

The dragon – which had finally appeared – soon noticed the horse and, for one reason or another, it decided to attack her first, opening its mouth wide and showing its long, hungry fangs.

_Don’t even think about it._

Geralt did the first thing he could do. He grabbed the dragon’s enormous tail. Not his smartest strategy, he had to admit it, but in his defence, he’d do anything to protect his loyal companion and that was all it mattered in that moment.

The positive outcome was that the dragon did stop to chase Roach and twisted its neck to look behind. The less positive part was that the creature began to spin the tail and Geralt had to grip it tightly to avoid falling off or getting hit by it. The worst part came when the dragon decided it had had enough and used the witcher’s hold to its advantage to whirl him and sent him flying high towards one of the towers.

Geralt crashed directly against the old stone with his whole body and shattered it, landing rather unpleasantly on the floor of the room inside.

His vision went black, and for a moment he just lay there. 

When he opened his eyes again he slowly began to stand up and cursed, feeling the pain caused by his not very graceful entrance. 

He looked around, but the room was small and there wasn’t really much to look at. The only thing clearly on display was the large, luxurious bed across the room. A weak light seeped through the window behind it and Geralt briefly wondered if it was some sort of dream. 

He shook his head. No, this was just his mission and he had to stay focused. He brought a hand to his own face and touched the helmet, which was still in place. _Good_.

He walked towards the bed, where the figure of a slim man was lying down, eyes closed and a bouquet of yellow flowers in his hands. Once he was standing above him, Geralt frowned as the man pursed his lips. 

He thought that having him asleep would only make things more complicated, so he grabbed his shoulders and shook him vigorously. “Wake up!”

The man let out a squeal and finally his eyes snapped open – _blue_ , as the cloudless morning sky. 

“What?!”

“Are you Prince Julian?”

“I prefer Jaskier, actually. But yes, I am.” The prince said as he looked up at Geralt behind his eyelashes and with a smirk on his face. “Awaiting a knight so bold as to rescue me.”

“Right. Let’s go.” Geralt quickly turned around, about to head for the door.

“But wait, Sir Knight.” The prince sat up, pointing the flowers at him. “This is our first meeting. Should it not be a wonderful, romantic moment?” He said while leaning back on the bed again and touching his forehead with the back of his hand rather dramatically.

Geralt raised a brow, unimpressed. “No time.” He grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled him on his feet.

“Hey, wait! What are you doing?”

Geralt ignored his protests and went to the door. He knew they weren’t safe yet. The sooner they got out of there, the better. But that didn’t stop the prince from blabbering.

“You know, you should sweep me off my feet, out yonder window and down a rope onto your valiant steed.”

“Hm.” Geralt stopped only a moment to look at him and wondered how long he had been trapped in the tower. Then, he kicked the door open and stormed out, dragging the prince off with him.

Prince Jaskier let out another scream, but he couldn’t do anything if not following as they hurried down the stairs.

“But we have to savour this moment!”

Geralt barely rolled his eyes.

“You could recite an epic poem for me.” Apparently, the prince wasn’t giving up. “A ballad? A sonnet!”

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Geralt stopped and looked around for signs of danger while Prince Jaskier pulled his wrist away from his grip.

“A limerick? Or something!”

Geralt grunted. He had no idea what he was talking about.

The prince sighed. “Can I _at least_ know the name of my champion?”

He had only a second of hesitation before replying, “Geralt.”

Complying with that simple request was enough to make Prince Jaskier smile. “Sir Geralt.” He cleared his throat and reached for something somewhere in his bright extravagant doublet. “I pray that you take this as a token of my gratitude.”

Geralt frowned slightly at the piece of cloth the prince was offering him, but eventually took it. “Uh… thank you.”

He used it to wipe away the sweat that was falling on his neck and then gave it back to the prince, who made a disgusted face and was probably going to say something annoying, but then–

A loud roar echoed from somewhere not far away.

“You didn’t slay the dragon?!” Prince Jaskier exclaimed.

“It’s on my to-do list.”

“But–” 

Geralt grabbed his wrist once again and ran towards the source of the terrifying sound. 

“This isn’t right! You were meant to charge in, sword drawn, banner flying. That’s what all the other knights did.”

“Right before they burst into flame.” Geralt retorted, casting a glance at all the skeletons and empty armours around them.

“That’s not the point.”

They stopped in another corridor made of black stones and only then Geralt let go of the prince’s hand, before walking quietly towards an old wooden door down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Prince Jaskier asked and pointed at the opposite direction. “The exit’s over there.”

“I have to save my horse.” Although he wasn’t looking at him, Geralt could feel the man’s eyes on him, observing carefully.

“What kind of knight are you?”

Geralt didn’t reply this time. Instead, he gestured him to shut up as he opened the door and slipped into a huge room.

As soon as he did, he heard a familiar whinny and saw her.

Roach was right in front of the dragon and neighed at it as if she was trying to… talk with it?

Geralt didn’t know what they were saying – or if they were saying anything at all – but he knew he had to do something.

He noticed an enormous, round chandelier hanging from the ceiling and connected to a long, rusty chain. He looked at it and then back at the dragon, as a plan began to take form in his mind. He just needed to wait for the right moment, when the creature tried to get closer to Roach and found itself exactly under the chandelier and–

_Now_.

With monstrous speed, Geralt draw his sword and cut the chain, which let the old chandelier fall on the dragon’s neck.

A raging roar followed, but the witcher was already launching himself forward to get to his mare and together they stormed out of that place before a gust of fire could catch them.

This time, Geralt grabbed the prince by the waist to pull him on Roach – ignoring his screams of protest – as he rode with his horse as fast as he could to cross the wooden, rickety bridge.

“GO!”

***

Having been trapped by the chain of the chandelier, the dragon couldn’t follow them as they finally made it to the other side of mountain. The safe side.

“You did it!” The prince exclaimed, clearly thrilled by this outcome. “You rescued me! You’re amazing, wonderful, you’re…”

He turned around to see Geralt getting off Roach, covered in ashes and dirt.

“A little unorthodox, I’ll admit.” He shrugged and walked closer to the other man, bowing gracefully in front of him. “But thy deed is great, and thine heart is pure. I am eternally in your dept.”

Geralt frowned at him, but before he could even think to say something, Roach neighed next to them.

Prince Jaskier turned to her then, with a charming smile on his face. “And where would a brave knight be without his noble steed?” He said, reaching up with his hand.

“Don’t touch Roach.” Geralt warned him.

The prince looked at him, raising his brows. “You named your horse _Roach_?”

“She doesn’t mind.”

“Oh, a beautiful mare, I see!” Prince Jaskier’s grin became, if possible, even wider as he nodded at Roach and then turned to Geralt again. “Anyway, the battle is won. You may remove your helmet, good Sir Geralt.”

Geralt froze. He had almost forgotten he was still wearing it. “No.”

“Why not?”

Good question. What was his plan at this point? Geralt should’ve thought about it better. “Uh…”

“Please. I wish to look upon the face of my rescuer.”

As he heard those words, Geralt felt a slight, sad sting in his chest, but he had become quite good at ignoring or dismissing those… emotions. “You don’t.”

The prince blushed a little but there was no embarrassment in his deep blue gaze as he said, “But… how will you kiss me?”

Behind the helmet, Geralt’s amber eyes widened slightly. “What?”

“It’s Destiny!” The prince said, spreading his arms, as if that explained everything. “You must know how it goes. A prince locked in a tower and beset by a dragon is rescued by a brave knight, and then they share true love’s first kiss.”

Geralt sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. He couldn’t believe what he had gotten himself into. “Look, I’m… not your type.”

“Of course you are. You’re my rescuer.” Prince Jaskier stated, with such certainty that was almost frightening. “Now remove your helmet.”

Of course, with all the princes in this world, _of course_ Geralt had to come across the most stubborn. “Not a good idea.”

“Take it off.”

“No.”

“ _Now_!”

“Fine!” Geralt gave up, exasperated, and he added sarcastically, “As you command, Your Highness.”

He reached up and did as he was asked, revealing his unmistakable silver hair and golden eyes.

Prince Jaskier squinted before he came to the realisation, “You… you’re a witcher.” His expression turned into a mix of amazement and curiosity. “And not just any witcher. You’re Geralt of Rivia! Oh, I’ve heard about you!”

It was Geralt’s turn to be surprised. He hadn’t expected the prince to know who he was, even though it wasn’t unlikely that he had heard stories about the Butcher of Blaviken. What _was_ indeed unlikely was that he didn’t smell afraid at all.

A moment later, the prince’s face fell, as he seemed to realise something else. “Wait. That means… you’re not…” he continued, “you aren’t here of your own accord, are you?”

Geralt hesitated. This prince had been locked in a tower for a long time and he was still young and naïve enough to believe in fairy tales and other ridiculous things. But Geralt came from the real world. The worst, most cruel part of it – made of monsters and killing, contracts and coin. There was no use in lying to him or making him believe that he was there for other reasons besides money. So, he shook his head.

Prince Jaskier looked away. “This is all wrong.” 

Geralt suddenly felt the urge to wipe off the sadness from his beautiful–

No. What was he thinking? It was probably the tiredness. This mission had already proven to be harder than expected, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. He just had to stay focused. Taking a deep breath, he tried to compose himself.

“Prince, I was sent to rescue you by Lord Valdo Marx.” He explained patiently, “He’s the one who wants to marry you.”

The prince narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Well, then why didn’t he come rescue me?”

“Ask him when we get there.” Geralt replied, turning away as he already started to walk back in the direction of the lord’s castle.

“But I have to be rescued by my true love. Not by someone who’s here only for the money.” The excitement from before, when he had recognised Geralt, was gone and it was replaced by dramatic annoyance and bluntness.

Geralt rolled his eyes. May the gods give him strength. “Look, you’re not making my job any easier.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but your job is not my problem.” Prince Jaskier crossed his arms and sat down on a rock. “You can tell this Lord Valdo Marx that if he wants to rescue me _properly_ , I’ll be waiting for him right here.” 

Geralt scowled as he approached him, knowing how threatening he could look, and growled. “I don’t deliver messages.”

The prince didn’t seem to be intimidated at all. He frowned as he looked up at the witcher from where he sat upright. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Geralt merely raised a single brow before bending over to wrap his arms around Prince Jaskier’s body and then he threw him on his shoulder, effortlessly.

“WHA–” 

He let out another dramatic squeal as he squirmed and kicked, trying to free himself. But Geralt didn’t sense any fear in him, only surprise and irritation.

“Put me down this instant, or you’ll suffer the consequences! This is not dignified! Put me down!”

***

At some point, the prince had stopped fighting and punching his back, and he simply let the witcher carry him.

Geralt knew Roach was tired, so he had decided to keep walking and holding her reins in one hand while his other hand was on the prince’s lower back, close to his bottom (which was just the most comfortable position and only useful to keep him from falling, obviously).

The journey was relatively long, but it wouldn’t be much different from what Geralt was used to if it wasn’t for one particular detail. There was not a moment of silence.

“So, what can you tell me about Cidaris? I think I’ve heard of that place, but I don’t remember much.”

If Geralt wasn’t sure before, now he had no doubt about it. The prince was incredibly and annoyingly _talkative_.

“Hm.”

No matter how Geralt replied to him – or even if he didn’t – he went on and on, as if he was just talking with himself (which was probably what he had been doing when he was in the tower).

“And what of my groom-to-be? Lord Valdo Marx? What’s he like?”

He also asked so many questions. Geralt only answered to half of them. “You’ll see for yourself in a few days.”

“Right, well– wait, _days_? It’ll take that long?”

Geralt ignored him this time and instead decided to finally put him down as they approached a river. He knelt down besides the flow of water and washed his face, while Roach quenched her thirst next to him.

“Shouldn’t we stop to make camp?” 

The prince’s voice came from behind him and Geralt could sense slight panic in it. He turned to look at him. “That’ll take longer.”

“But there might be robbers and bandits or–”

“I’m a witcher. No one will bother us. Just keep going.” Geralt thought he was just complaining because now he had to walk on his own legs, so he dismissed his request and turned back to follow the road while the sun was still above the horizon.

But he only managed to take a few steps along with Roach before the prince stepped right in front of him, blocking his path. There was a determined glint in his bright blue eyes.

“I need to find somewhere to camp _now_!”

Theoretically speaking, Geralt could have easily pushed him aside or thrown him on his shoulder again or tied him and pulled him along. But the way Prince Jaskier was looking at him told him that he shouldn’t try to do any of those.

He and Roach exchanged a quick glance and Geralt could see that she thought exactly the same thing.

***

“Over here.”

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find a suitable place to camp for the night. Or better, it didn’t take long to find a place that was suitable for the prince’s request. He made it very clear that he wanted to be alone in a closed space. So, Geralt found this not very large cave, even though he was pretty sure that Prince Jaskier would have something to complain about, because his spoiled arse wouldn’t accept to sleep like an animal in the wild.

“It’s perfect! It just needs a few homey touches.”

Geralt blinked. Had he heard him well? “What?”

There was a strange sound and then the prince appeared next to him with a large piece of wood in his hands. “A door.”

Again, Geralt could only stare and wonder what the fuck was going on.

Prince Jaskier simply flashed him and Roach a warm smile. “Well, my dear lady and gentleman, I bid thee good night.” 

“Hm.” Geralt watched him close the “door” and sighed. He was never going to understand nobles.

Walking back towards the campfire, he looked up at the sky and noticed that the sun was just about to disappear below the horizon.

He patted Roach affectionately on the neck and then took his bedroll that she was carrying on her back.

Geralt sat down quietly and ate the rabbit he had hunted earlier, enjoying the blessed silence for the first time that day. Then, he saw his mare looking in the direction of the cave.

“Don’t get attached, Roach. This is just another contract.”

The horse neighed in reply.

“You know it’s better like this.” He said bitterly and watched the first stars appear in the darkening sky. “They want us only when they need us and the second the job is done they pay, if we’re lucky, and ask us to leave as soon as possible. It’s just like it’s always been and it won’t be different this time.”

Roach trotted closer to her master and nuzzled his hair.

Geralt allowed himself a small smile. “Yeah. We’re better off alone, aren’t we? We don’t need anyone else.”

If the “door” of the cave had been left slightly ajar for a few moments, before being closed again for the rest of the night, he either didn’t notice or didn’t want to think much about it.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to everyone who has shown love and support for the first chapter!  
> Here's the second. I hope you enjoy!

***

Geralt woke up with the nice smell of food in the air, and frowned. He sat up on his bedroll and saw the prince crouching next to the fire, across him, balancing a couple of eggs on two very large leaves. It looked like he was… making breakfast.

“Good morning.” Prince Jaskier greeted him with a radiant smile. “How do you like your eggs?”

As he stared at him, the first thing that crossed Geralt’s mind was _where the fuck did he find those eggs?_ and the second was _how could I not notice when he woke up before me?_ , but all he managed to ask was, “What’s all this about?”

“Well, we kind of got off to a bad start yesterday and I wanted to make it up to you. After all, you did rescue me.” The prince glanced at the eggs one more time and seemed to judge them ready to be eaten, so he stood up and offered them to Geralt.

He narrowed his amber eyes slightly and sniffed the air once more, but again he couldn’t sense any fear or disgust or anything which might have indicated that the prince would want to poison him – not that it would’ve worked, of course, but it could’ve been unpleasant. Instead, Geralt found himself feeling like he could… trust him. So, he accepted the eggs. “Uh… thank you, Prince Jaskier.”

“Oh, please, just Jaskier will do.” ~~Prince~~ _Jaskier_ said, with a nonchalant wave of his hand, and grinned.

“Hmm.” Geralt replied and ate his eggs in silence.

Once they were done, they packed everything that was needed and set off, continuing their journey.

Not long after they had started to walk, Geralt belched. He shot a quick glance at the prince and cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“That’s all right.” Jaskier said and then he belched even louder. “I guess the food was good enough, wasn’t it?”

Geralt stared at him and grunted.

“Is there a particular reason you’re looking at me like that or am I just too beautiful not to be looked at?”

“I… hmm.” This time Geralt averted his gaze and forced himself to look ahead. It was useless to deny at this point that there was something about this young, cheerful prince that intrigued him somehow. Eventually, he said, “You’re not exactly as I expected.”

“Neither are you, my dear witcher. But I’d still be in that tower if it weren’t for you, so I guess you must be exactly what I needed.”

“Hmm.” 

“And I really want to show you my gratitude properly.” Jaskier continued, “I think I’ll write a song about you.”

“What?”

“I’m a musician! Well, more or less.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he explained, “I’ve written songs and ballads since I was a child and I learnt to play the lute and a few other instruments, but my parents have never been enthusiastic about my interests. They told me it’s not fitting for a prince and forced me to hide it, so I’ve never had much of an audience.” He paused for a moment, and his gaze became suddenly melancholic and his smile turned sad. “The lute was the only thing that kept me company while I was locked in the tower, but… one day, a few weeks before you came to rescue me, I had managed to get out of my room and I was walking around, carelessly as always and there… there was an accident with the dragon, and my lute ended up smashed. I had never felt so lost and alone before that.”

The prince was giving away so much information about himself and Geralt didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to try to comfort him but wasn’t sure how. No one had ever relied on Geralt for comfort.

“You can… uh, buy another one. A new lute, I mean.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do. I just hope my future husband will be less bigoted than my parents.” The prince’ smile seemed to return jovial again and his eyes more determined. “It’d be wonderful if we shared the same love for music.”

“Hmm.” Geralt found himself hoping silently that Jaskier could always have that expression on his face. Happiness looked truly bewitching on him. “Meanwhile, you can also– you can write that song.”

The prince turned his head to stare at him. “You mean… the one about you? Will you let me do it?”

“Something tells me that you’d do it anyway.”

Jaskier laughed and _that_ was already music to Geralt’s ears. “True. But it’d be nicer if I had your permission, don’t you think?”

“You have my permission.” Geralt replied, without hesitation.

Jaskier beamed at him.

They kept walking, side by side, with Roach next to Geralt and after only a few minutes of silence, the prince went past them and began to hum a tune.

Geralt said nothing, not wanting to disturb him, and simply found himself enjoying the melody he was creating.

He was going to curse himself later for being so foolishly distracted, because all of a sudden there was a rustling sound which quickly became louder and louder and a long rope was launched around the thick branch of a tree from somewhere behind the bushes, where a man appeared, gripping the rope tightly as he swayed like monkey. He stretched his arm to catch Jaskier, who screamed as soon as he was lifted from the ground at such a high speed.

“Jaskier!”

Even with his witcher senses, when Geralt reacted it was too late and he could only watch as the stranger climbed on that thick branch thanks to his rope, bringing the prince with him.

“Wait, wait! What are you doing?!” Jaskier struggled as he tried to get free from the man’s hold once they landed on the tree.

“Do not fret, my dear prince, for your saviour is here!” The stranger grinned widely, probably in a way that he thought was charming, and took Jaskier’s hand in his and started kissing it. The prince made a disgusted face, but the man still didn’t let go of him, and instead he explained between the kisses, “And I am rescuing you from this mutant.”

“You.” Below them, Geralt growled darkly, attracting the stranger’s attention. “That’s my prince. Go find your own.”

“Shut up, monster! Can’t you see I’m a little busy here?” The man snapped at him, but the important thing was that Jaskier finally managed to pull himself away from the attacker.

Something primal and protective awoke inside Geralt and he growled again as he drew his sword.

The stranger smirked and called out, “Men! Take care of this witcher.”

Of course he hadn’t come alone. A second later, Geralt was surrounded by a dozen men, who came out from the bushes, all armed and ready to attack. That’s when he started to curse himself, thinking that if his brothers or Vesemir found out how distracted and stupid he had been he’d never hear the end of it.

“I don’t think so.”

Jaskier’s words were followed by a loud thud, which Geralt realised – much to his surprise and delight – was the sound that the stranger had made when he fell down the tree.

Geralt was watching the other men carefully, so he didn’t see the prince pushing him down, but he didn’t miss the way Jaskier landed gracefully on the ground, after jumping from the branch.

In front of him there was no prince now. In front of him stood a man with the posture and the eyes of a true fighter.

He could barely follow his movements as Jaskier knock one man out and then another, with his bare hands and a few nice kicks in the right place.

All the men moved away from the witcher and were suddenly on him. Some of them even shot arrows with their bows, but Jaskier dodged them every time.

He continued with his acrobatics and seemed to be doing just fine even without Geralt’s help. More than fine.

Jaskier didn’t stop until no one was standing or conscious, except for himself, Geralt and Roach.

After the last man was knocked out, Jaskier panted and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He adjusted his hair and clothes, composing himself, and then smiled at Geralt as if nothing was wrong. 

He walked towards him and gestured in the direction of the road they had been following.

“Shall we?”

And then he just began to walk again, as if everything was completely normal. As if he was totally unaware of the fact that for the first time in his long, miserable life Geralt had felt _useless_ during a fight.

“What the fuck.” Geralt muttered under his breath and looked at Roach, who seemed to be as stunned as he was.

After a few brief moments (which would be enough to have a short existential crisis), Geralt took his horse’s reins and started walking to reach Jaskier.

He soon fell into step beside him and couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Where did that come from?”

“What?”

“Back there. That was…” Geralt still couldn’t believe what he had seen, but if he had to think of a word to describe it he’d say, “…impressive.” 

He watched as the prince blushed softly and looked away, but he was smiling.

“Where did you learn that?”

“Well,” Jaskier began, as he scratched the back of his neck, “I’ve been living alone for a long time and I had to learn a few things in case there’s– THERE’S AN ARROW IN YOUR BUTT!” 

His blue eyes widened, as he finished his sentence screaming, and pointing at Geralt’s backside.

“What?” Geralt turned his head to look at his own behind – as well as he was able to – and saw that there was actually an arrow stuck into his right cheek, through his trousers. “Hm.”

“Oh, no. This is all my fault! I’m so sorry!” Jaskier sounded genuinely concerned.

Geralt wanted to reassure him that he was fine and that he didn’t feel any pain, but the prince was already fussing over him.

“Hold still. We must get that thing out of you.” Jaskier stepped behind him and before Geralt could have the time to understand what he wanted to do, he grabbed the arrow and pulled.

“Fuck!” Geralt flinched away and gritted his teeth. _That_ hurt. He turned around and glared at the prince. “You can’t just do that!”

Next to him, Roach neighed, as if mocking him. _Traitor_.

Jaskier put his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry, but it has to come out.” Then, he reached out again, probably with the intention of pulling even more strongly than before.

Geralt held up a hand. “Wait.”

The prince stopped. “What?”

“Let me… hmm.” Geralt looked around him, searching for something, anything that could help him get out of this situation with some dignity. But all he saw were trees and Roach, so he could only sigh and go to stand in front of a tree, put his fists on the trunk and lean slightly against it.

“You comfortable?”

Geralt grunted again and Jaskier approached him.

“All right. Now, be a good boy and don’t move, or else I won’t give you a reward.”

“What the fuck are you– OW!”

Suddenly, Geralt felt a brief, but sharp pain. Then, he turned around to see Jaskier waving the arrow with some blood on its tip and smiling at him.

“Fuck.”

***

Geralt had no idea how his life came to this.

As it turned out, Jaskier’s “reward” for him consisted of an ointment made from chamomile which could soothe the pain of his wound. The prince made it himself, in less than an hour after he found the plant he needed in the forest.

And now, Geralt had been stripped of his armour and his trousers had been pulled down to his ankles, along with his smallclothes. He spread out on his bedroll, lying down on his stomach, completely bare from the waist to the calves. 

He grunted, as Jaskier applied more ointment on his skin.

“Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest.” The prince said. “I’m trying to take care of my friend.”

Geralt frowned. “I’m not your friend.”

“Oh. Oh, really? You just let strangers rub chamomile on your lovely bottom?”

Geralt would’ve glared at him, but he was all too aware of Jaskier’s hands on his bare arse and he was grateful that the prince couldn’t see his face right now, because he was pretty sure that he didn’t look as intimidating as he usually did. His cheeks felt too warm.

So, he said nothing and closed his eyes. For a few moments, nobody spoke. But, as he had soon learnt, the silence could never last long with Jaskier around.

The prince started humming softly, and Geralt surprised himself when he thought he recognised the melody.

“Is that…” he began to ask, before he could stop.

“The song about you?” Jaskier finished for him. “Yes, my dear witcher. I told you I’d compose it.”

“Hmm.”

Not long after, the prince stood up and declared his job on Geralt’s bottom done. He turned around to give Geralt some privacy while he pulled his smalls and trousers back on.

As the sun began to set, they started searching for a place to spend the night, before the sky could get dark. Geralt led Roach by the reins and she happily followed, both listening to Jaskier’s attempts to find the right words and rhymes for the tune he was singing.

Geralt had no idea how his life came to this, but he couldn’t say that he minded – not that he’d actually say it aloud, of course.

 _This is just another contract_. He still tried to tell himself.

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your kudos and comments! They're all very appreciated :)
> 
> Warning for this chapter: angst!

***

Jaskier spent the night in another cave which Geralt had found and carefully examined before judging it safe for the prince to sleep. Not that Jaskier would have any problems dealing with something dangerous, apparently, but still, better safe than sorry.

The following morning, Jaskier showed him how he found the eggs and Geralt was shocked to realise that the prince’s voice could be such a powerful and merciless weapon, which even managed to make small animals (like little birds) literally explode if they heard its high pitch for too long.

Geralt’s sensitive ears also ached slightly after he listened to Jaskier’s deadly performance. At least, they got a nice breakfast out of it.

Then, they set off again.

***

It was late in the afternoon when they saw it.

The towers of the lord’s majestic castle came into view and Geralt knew they weren’t far from the city.

“There it is, prince.” He said, as Jaskier stood next to him. “Your future awaits you.”

“That’s Cidaris?”

Geralt gave an affirmative grunt.

But neither of them moved. Not even Roach. 

Geralt clenched and unclenched his fists as he tried to find something to say. “I… uh, I guess we better go.”

“Sure. But, Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“I’m…” the prince was fidgeting with his fingers and seemed to be as uncomfortable as he felt. “I’m worried about Roach.”

Geralt frowned. “What?”

Jaskier gestured towards the horse. “I mean, look at her. She doesn’t look so good.” 

He glanced at Roach – who looked perfectly fine – and then back at the prince, “Yeah…” and he found himself agreeing. “The journey must have been exhausting for her.”

“I think we should rest.” Jaskier suggested. “It’s for Roach’s sake, after all.”

“Right.” Geralt wasn’t sure what had got into him. It was not like him to delay the end of a contract and yet, he agreed again. “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

Geralt nodded. “I’ll find us some dinner.”

Jaskier smiled brightly. “I’ll get the firewood.”

***

They built a campfire next to an old – and very likely abandoned – windmill, which they had found on a hill not far from the outskirts of the town. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers coming from the field of sunflowers down the hill.

“Mmm. This is _really_ good.” Jaskier said, from where he was sitting, as he ate the food Geralt had hunted and cooked. “What is this?”

“Field mice. Rotisserie style.” Geralt finished to spit-roast his own portion of food on a stick over the fire and sat down as well.

“It’s delicious. I didn’t know you cooked food like that.”

“They’re also good in stews. I’ve tried it in many inns across the Continent.”

Jaskier smiled and continued to eat the rest of the mouse on his skewer.

He was adjusting to the life on the road better than Geralt had expected. His mind wondered briefly what it would be like to travel with someone else other than Roach. He quickly tried to dismiss that thought.

When he looked up from his food, he saw the prince staring in the direction of the castle. There was something like melancholy in his distant gaze and he remembered seeing it already when Jaskier had told him about his past.

“I guess I’ll be dining a little differently tomorrow night.”

Geralt knew the prince was right. Today it would be the last time they ate together like this. 

Next to him, he noticed Roach approaching Jaskier and if she had been doing well before, now Geralt could feel that she was unhappy. He watched as his loyal horse nuzzled gently the prince’s head. She was an intelligent girl. Certainly, she was smart enough to understand that they were going to part ways with Jaskier soon and it looked like she was trying to say that she’d miss him. 

Geralt couldn’t blame her. “Maybe, I can… I mean, I think we’ll come to Cidaris again in the future.”

Jaskier chuckled softly and patted Roach’s neck. “Good. I’d like to see you again. Both of you, of course.”

“Hmm.” Yeah. Geralt was sure that Roach was indeed going to miss the prince’ smile and warm laugh – and also the blue of his eyes, his sweet scent, the sound of his lovely voice when he sang, the way his fingers moved when he imagined to play his lute, and… everything. 

“Prince…”

“Jaskier.” The prince corrected him.

“Jaskier.” Geralt repeated and then hesitated. “I…”

“Yes, Geralt?”

“I was wondering…” Fuck. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. 

As Roach seemed to sense his helplessness, she trotted behind him and unceremoniously shoved him forward with her head.

Geralt reacted on instinct and put his hands down, next to Jaskier’s hips, to avoid falling. 

When he looked up, he was met by a pair of wide cornflower blue eyes and he would’ve been totally captured by them alone, if it weren’t for the prince’s lips, which – he couldn’t help but notice – were slightly parted. And also dangerously close.

When he realised he was staring for too long, he quickly turned away and sat up again. “So– sorry.”

“Don’t worry. It’s all right.” Jaskier reassured him kindly. 

Geralt glared at Roach, who snorted and shook her head. He was going to have a word with her later, but now he turned his attention back to the prince when he heard him talking again.

“So, what were you wondering about?”

“Nothing. I mean…” Geralt looked around, desperate to find something to say. Eventually, his gaze fell upon the prince’s skewer, which still had an untouched mouse stuck into it. “Are you going to eat that?”

Jaskier looked down at his skewer as if he remembered only then that he was still holding it. He shook his head and offered it to Geralt.

Geralt took it and ate it, even though he didn’t feel hungry anymore.

They sat quietly for a short while, simply watching the sky change its colours and enjoying the sight before them.

Surprisingly, it was Geralt who broke the silence.

“There’s a nice view here.”

“Yes.” Jaskier agreed promptly. “Very romantic. The houses, the castle, the field of flowers and sunse– oh, fuck! The _sunset_!” Suddenly, he jerked up as if he had been stung hard.

Geralt looked at him, feeling concerned as he sensed the panic in him. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing! I mean, it’s late. Very late. And I… I… I’m afraid of the dark!”

Geralt blinked at the prince. “The dark?”

“Yes! That’s it. I’m terrified.” He let out a nervous laugh. “You know what, I’d better go inside.”

“Hm.” Geralt watched him as he walked towards the windmill.

The prince opened the door, but before stepping inside he turned around with a smile on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good night, Geralt.”

“Good night… Jaskier.”

As the prince disappeared behind the door and closed it, Geralt sighed.

Then, he heard the sound of Roach’s hooves getting closer to him. 

He turned to her. “What did you think you were doing earlier?”

She neighed in reply. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Roach. He’s a prince and I’m just… a witcher.”

The mare let out another whinny and pointed at the windmill’s door with her head. _Stubborn girl_.

“No. I have nothing to say to him.” Which wasn’t exactly correct. He had tried to find the words, but as expected, he had failed miserably. Jaskier was much better at that.

“I’m going to take a walk. Stay here, alright?”

Roach stomped on the ground twice with her hoof.

Geralt smiled at her and started walking, with the hope of clearing his mind from certain confusing thoughts. And perhaps, not just his mind.

The night didn’t feel particularly chilly, at least not to a witcher, and Geralt wondered if it was too cold for Jaskier or if he managed to stay warm inside the windmill.

He wandered around without a destination for a while, with only the stars and the moon to illuminate the road – but their light was more than enough and didn’t even have to use his night vision. He almost always ended up following the same path, because he didn’t want to go too far.

Eventually, he found himself in front of the field of sunflowers he had seen earlier from the hill.

Geralt remembered crossing that field when he arrived at Cidaris the first time, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it. Now, as he smelled the flowers’ subtle, delicate scent and admired their idyllic beauty, he realised he was smiling. But not because of the flowers. No. It was because of what those flowers made him think about. Or, rather, _who_.

And if he had to be honest with himself, he’d acknowledge that Jaskier had been the only thing on his mind since the first time he saw him on the bed of his dark room in the tower.

Geralt sighed and ran a hand on his own face. 

Then, he stared at one particular sunflower in front of him. In the darkness, he could see that its yellow petals were floppy and limp, and it almost looked like it felt lonely, even sad. A sunflower without its sun.

Just like Geralt felt when Jaskier disappeared in a cave or somewhere away from him before the sun could set.

 _Jaskier seems to like flowers._ He thought. _He also smells like them._

Tentatively, Geralt reached out to grab the long stem of the sunflower and broke it. He stared down at it and then looked back at windmill on the top of the hill.

Maybe he could try this.

***

He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

As he made his way back to campfire, which had gone out long ago, Geralt held the sunflower in his calloused hand and tried to practise what he’d say to the prince.

“Prince– I mean, Jaskier,” he cleared his throat, “Jaskier, I… how are you doing, first of all? Good? Good. Me, too. I, uh, I saw this flower and thought of you because it’s pretty and… well, I don’t really like it, but I thought you might like it ’cause you’re pretty. But I like you anyway. I… fuck.”

He was so fucked. He didn’t even have a clear idea what he was blathering about. This was ridiculous. _He_ was ridiculous. But at this point, it was too late to change his mind.

He took a deep breath and climbed the few steps which led to the windmill. 

“Here we go.”

“I can’t just marry whoever I want.” 

He stopped right in front of the door. That was Jaskier’s voice. What was he saying?

“Take a look at me, Roach.”

 _Roach?_ As he thought about it, Geralt realised he hadn’t seen his horse anywhere while he came back to the campfire. She was probably on the other side of the windmill, where a window was located and Jaskier was talking to her through it. But what could they be talking about?

“I mean, really, who could ever love a beast so hideous and ugly?”

Geralt froze. His whole body stiffened. His shoulders tensed and his hands clenched tightly – the one that was holding the flower threatened to break it.

“Prince and ugly don’t go together. That’s why I can’t stay with Geralt.”

His amber eyes widened at the sound of that lovely voice speaking his name. The name of a monster. He knew it. He was all too aware of it, but he had hoped. He had hoped this time, just this time, could have been different. What a pathetic fool he was.

“My only chance to live happily ever after is to marry my true love.”

He uncurled his fist, letting the sunflower fall on the dirty ground, and turned around to walk away.

“Don’t you see, Roach? That’s just how it has to be.”

_Right. Of course. It’s Destiny, isn’t it? That’s how it works._

Geralt was too angry and too frustrated by the sound of his own heart shattering into a million pieces to hear Jaskier’s next words.

“It’s the only way to break the spell.”

***

Geralt walked and walked, aimlessly, for the rest of the night. He felt tired, but he didn’t sleep. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to think, or worse, dream.

At dawn, he finally headed back to the windmill.

As he reached the top of the hill, he caught a glimpse of something like a golden glow. But it was probably just a reflection of the sunlight.

“Geralt!” 

Jaskier was already up, early as always. As the prince ran towards him, Geralt couldn’t help but notice that he was holding a sunflower in his hand – one that had no petal left on – and he also smelled nervous.

“Geralt, there’s something I want– are you all right?”

Geralt knew he probably looked anything but. “Never been better.”

“I don’t… well, listen, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything, _prince_.” Geralt snapped, in a harsher tone than he had expected from himself. “I heard enough last night.”

The prince froze and his blue eyes widened. “You… you heard what I said?”

“Every word.”

“I thought you’d understand.”

“I understand perfectly.” And he did. It’s just that, for a few days, he had let himself forget why witchers shouldn’t put their trust in anyone and why they were taught they shouldn’t feel emotions. “Like you said, ‘who could ever love a hideous, ugly beast?’”

The prince looked like he had just been stabbed in the back. His voice was barely a whisper and his lower lip trembled as he spoke again. “I thought it wouldn’t matter to you.”

 _But it does._ His broken heart reminded him and he looked down at his own feet. He’d have to relearn those few things, which he shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place.

Next to him, Roach didn’t move a muscle, as if sensing the tension in the air.

The prince opened his mouth and then closed it again. For once, not even he could seem to find words to speak.

But before the silence could become unbearable, they heard the sound of a trumpet not far away and then of hooves approaching.

Bright red flags came into view on the top of the hill and Geralt recognised the lord’s emblem on them.

“Right on time.”

He and the prince watched as the knights got closer, some of them walking while others were riding their horses.

The one in front of the group was wearing a particularly shining armour and was also the only one riding an elegant white stallion. His assertive posture gave off an air of pride and arrogance – which could be easily mistaken for self-confidence at first.

There was no doubt about who he was.

The man approached and his gaze soon fell on the prince. He smiled in charming way, as he seemed to be very pleased with what he was seeing. 

“Prince Julian.”

He said slowly, as if wanting to savour how the name tasted on his tongue.

Geralt already hated the sound of his voice. He had no intention of hearing it for longer than necessary. Besides, there was no reason for him to stay. “As promised. Now, pay up.”

“Very well, witcher.” Without taking his eyes off Jaskier, the lord snapped his fingers and a knight stepped forward, handing a bag full of coin to Geralt. “Take it and go before I change my mind.”

Grunting, Geralt grabbed the heavy bag and made his way through the group of knights, who all glared at him, and someone spat on the ground as he passed. He could feel Roach hesitating behind him, but he knew she would follow eventually. 

He needed to get away, as far as possible, where he wouldn’t be able to hear that irritating voice.

“Forgive me, prince, for startling you, but you startled me… for I have never seen such a radiant beauty before. I am Lord Valdo Marx.”

The lord introduced himself and then dismounted from his stallion.

“Lord Valdo Marx? Oh. No, no. Forgive me, my lord, for I was just saying a short farewell.”

Geralt had just walked past those men when he stopped, and took a moment to think that he was no longer going to hear Jaskier’s voice either.

He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to see the lord and the prince standing in front of each other, with very small space between them.

“That is so sweet. You don’t have to waste good manners on the witcher. It’s not like it has _feelings_.”

The prince noticed Geralt was still looking and his expression became stern (and somehow sad), as he frowned.

“No, you’re right. He doesn’t.”

Those words were shot like an arrow that hit Geralt right in his chest.

“Prince Julian. Beautiful, fair, flawless Julian.” The lord soon drew Jaskier’s attention back to himself. He kept looking at the prince as he took his hand and got down on one knee. And then, he did what he had been planning to do since he had started sending clueless knights to their certain death in that tower.

“I ask your hand in marriage.” 

Geralt turned away and cursed underneath his breath.

“Will you be the perfect bride for the perfect groom?”

Then, he heard Jaskier hesitating and looked up again.

“Uh, actually…” Blue eyes met his amber one more time, but there was still sorrow and a feeling of betrayal in them. Whatever the prince was going to say, he quickly changed his mind. “Lord Valdo Marx, I accept. Nothing would make–”

“Excellent!” The lord exclaimed, as he stood up. “I’ll start the plans, for tomorrow we wed!”

“No!” Jaskier stopped him.

Geralt felt the panic in his voice and found himself unable to move, again.

“I mean, why wait? Let’s get married today. Before sunset.”

And just like that, the last shred of Geralt’s helpless hope was gone forever. But, of course, no one was aware of his internal turmoil, except maybe for Roach, who had quietly reached him meanwhile.

“Oh, anxious, are we? You’re right. The sooner, the better. There’s so much to do!” The lord snapped his fingers again, and the white stallion was immediately next to him. “The caterer, the cake, the band, the guest list. Captain, round up some guests!

“Yes, my lord!” One of the knights answered promptly.

Lord Valdo Marx mounted his horse and then offered Jaskier his hand, but the prince managed to get on the horse without any help. And together, they set off in the direction of the castle.

“Fare thee well, witcher!”

Geralt heard him saying, but at that point he was already walking away.

***


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to thank you all for showing love and support for this fic <3  
> This is the last chapter!

***

He and Roach returned to the path through the forest they had crossed just the day before. Geralt still walked, because he felt as if moving helped him not to think too much. He walked ahead of his mare, who followed a few paces behind.

He didn’t know exactly how long they had been walking, but at a certain point, he felt her slow down.

He turned around and saw that his horse had almost stopped moving.

“Come on, Roach.”

She let out a low, discontent whinny and it looked like she had no intention of going on.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already.”

Another whinny. Then, she stomped her hoof on the ground. Once, twice.

Geralt sighed and approached his restless mare. He ran a hand across her strong neck, trying to provide some kind of comfort. “I’ve told you it was impossible.” 

Roach was having none of it, as she quickly pulled away and neighed more loudly, turning back towards the direction they had come from.

He had never seen her acting like this.

“I know you’re going to miss him. You two became friends, right? I’ve heard you last night.” She had let Jaskier touch her more than once and they had talked together like they had known each other for a much longer time than just a few days. It must have been hard for her to watch the prince leave just like that. 

Maybe, this experience had left more than one broken heart.

Geralt’s chest still hurt and he reached out to stroke his horse again. “Are you going to leave, too? Find someone who can take better care of you? Maybe someone who’s not a monster and can offer you everything you want and not just a shitty life on the road.”

Roach seemed to sense how he felt, because she suddenly turned to him and shook her head to let the reins fall on her master’s hand.

“Right.” Geralt tried – he really tried – to smile at her, as a silent thank you. “I’m sorry, Roach. I just… fuck.”

But the mare still wasn’t giving up. She took a few steps in the opposite direction of where Geralt was heading, and then trotted back to him. And then again, she moved towards the route that led to the lord’s castle. She really didn’t understand.

“No.” Geralt said, more firmly this time. “We can’t go back. Stop it.”

Roach neighed once more and began to stomp her hooves on the ground repeatedly.

Geralt frowned as he watched her getting more and more frustrated. “What are you trying to say? I don’t understand.”

“I think she’s trying to say that she’s not very fond of that arrogant lord.”

The prideful, self-assured, unmistakable voice spoke from behind him. It was the least likely he had expected to hear.

“Yennefer.”

He clenched his jaw and forced his body to relax before turning around to see her. In a black and violet dress, with arms crossed and a purple thunderstorm in her eyes, she looked like she could start a war. Magnificent and impeccable as always.

“Roach is also suggesting we get rid of him, so you and your dear prince can finally sit down and talk like adults.”

He stared at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“How the fuck did you…”

“I thought you knew I’m full of surprises.” She gave him an amused smile.

Geralt scowled. He wasn’t in the mood for this. “Explain. Now.”

“Maybe later. You have something more urgent to do.”

With a flick of her wrist and a wide gesture of her arm, the sorceress opened a portal. On the other side, Geralt could see a grand, decorated door and it didn’t take a genius to understand what it gave access to. It was the very place Geralt was running from.

“No.” He told her.

Yennefer merely raised a brow at him, as if asking why but not because it mattered to her. It was just to make him admit it aloud.

Geralt stared down at his own feet. He was too tired to play her games. “He doesn’t want me.”

“Are you sure?”

He looked up at her to retort, or tell her to shut up and leave him alone because he had already exposed himself too much, had let himself feel things he shouldn’t have and now he was just exhausted. Drained, of all his hope.

But what he saw in her deep purple gaze made him bite his tongue. It was a light, perhaps a lightning, of that magic storm within her. 

It made Geralt wonder what she knew that he didn’t.

“This is your only chance, Geralt. Are you really going to leave him with that lord?”

How come she was asking all the questions when she was the one being mysterious, Geralt didn’t know. All he knew was that the answer to that last question was, obviously, _no fucking way_.

“Yen–”

“Oh, look, the portal is closing. Pity I have to save my energy and I can’t keep it open much longer.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her and let out a growl, while Roach was already about to step into the portal, whinnying enthusiastically.

***

His head felt dizzy and his body was a bit numb, as he come out of the portal. He’d never get used to it.

Thinking again about Yennefer’s unexpected appearance, he couldn’t be sure yet what to make of it, but if he had to guess he’d say the reason she had come here was some kind of loose threads. Something left unresolved for too long. Perhaps a mistake she wanted to correct.

Whatever mess was behind all this it didn’t matter, though.

As he looked up at the large main door in front of him, he realised the only thing he needed to focus on right there and then was the wedding currently going on on the other side. And how to stop it.

With all his experience in monster hunting, it shouldn’t be too hard to think of a strategy. But Geralt had never dealt with something like this before and he was running out of time. 

Roach – good, loyal, smart Roach – felt his nervousness and trotted behind him to give him a gentle shove, as if encouraging him.

Geralt sighed and settled for the direct approach.

He kicked the door open, bursting in and shouting the words Yennefer had kindly suggested.

“I object!”

All the guests and people attending the ceremony turned their heads to look at the intruder and many gasped in horror.

But Geralt didn’t even have the chance to worry about any of them because, as he approached the altar, his heart skipped a beat – maybe two or three.

“Geralt?”

Jaskier stood there, wearing an ivory white suit decorated with golden ruffles and a crown on his head of the same colour, and his eyes twinkled like the sea reflecting the sunlight. He stood there, with an elegance and a beauty beyond compare.

The stunning dream was abruptly interrupted by that irritating voice which Geralt hated so much.

“What does he want now?” Lord Valdo Marx, who stood at the altar in front of the prince, didn’t seem to be pleased with the sudden intrusion.

And if Jaskier’s eyes had widened with genuine and positive surprise at first, now his blue gaze became more severe. “What are you doing here?”

Geralt was still walking towards them and stopped only slightly before the prince could be within arm’s reach.

“Really,” the lord went on, “it’s rude enough being alive when no one wants you, but showing up uninvited to a wedding–”

“Jaskier,” Geralt didn’t hear him, and he didn’t look at him or at anyone else in the hall. He only had eyes for one person, the only important reason he was there. “I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, _now_ you wanna talk?” The prince narrowed his eyes and put his hands on his hips. “Well, it’s a little late for that, so now if you’ll excuse me.”

Jaskier looked away from him and took step forward to lean closer to the lord and to be able to ki–

Geralt’s heart hammered in his chest and he grabbed the prince’s arm to stop him. “But you can’t marry him.”

Jaskier pulled away and furrowed his brows. “And why not?”

“Because… because he’s just marrying you so he can be king.”

“Outrageous!” The lord let out a gasp. “Julian, don’t listen to him.”

“He’s not your true love.” Geralt insisted. He knew he looked and sounded desperate, because he was. He knew this mess was his fault and his chest swelled with guilt at the thought of Jaskier spending the rest of his life with this pompous noble, who didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as his.

But Jaskier still had a sorrowful hint in his gaze. “And what do you know about true love?”

“I… uh,” Geralt stammered, heart pounding in his ears, “well, I… I mean…”

“Oh, this is adorable.” Lord Valdo Marx raised his brows at him, and an ugly grin spread on his face. “The witcher has fallen in love with the prince!”

He let out a cruel, mocking laugh, and soon the crowd of people followed, bursting into laughter as well.

The sound echoed in Geralt’s ears and it made his head spin. He had to shut his eyes.

“A witcher and a prince! Oh, sweet Melitele!”

His heart sank and he felt like he had been stripped of all his clothes, like he was standing bare in front of all these people. Like a pathetic fool.

“Geralt,”

But then, that lovely voice reached him and suddenly, his ears and his head didn’t hurt anymore. Slowly, he opened his eyes to meet his favourite sea of blue.

The prince’s body was tense, but his gaze was soft and hopeful, as he whispered tenderly, “Is this true?”

He sounded a bit incredulous and Geralt wanted to kick himself for not telling Jaskier sooner how much he cared for him. He was just about to say this and much more when–

“Who cares? It’s preposterous!” The lord exclaimed and grabbed the prince’s wrist to pull him back towards himself. “Julian, my love, we are but a kiss away from our ‘happily ever after’. Now, kiss me!”

He pursed his lips, so all Jaskier had to do to formalise the marriage was leaning forward and kissing them. Instead, the prince frowned and turned his head to look out of the huge window behind them, at the orange sky.

The sun was setting.

“ _By night one way, by day another._ ” Jaskier murmured to himself, as if recalling a poem. Then, he backed away and turned to Geralt. “I wanted to show you before.”

The prince took a few steps backward, distancing himself from the witcher and the lord.

The sun descended below the horizon and Jaskier’s whole body was surrounded by tiny stars, which began to emit a strong, golden glow.

Even Geralt’s eyes were too sensitive for it and he had to look away for a few moments. Only when the light faded did he manage to look back at the prince again, and the sight he was met with struck him in more ways than he could ever imagine.

He felt, for the lack of a better word, bewitched.

Jaskier’s eyes were two pools full of infinite blue. No white, no pupils, only the irises. It was like looking at the cloudless morning sky.

And Geralt felt himself flying in there.

Speaking of which, there was also an interesting addition to the prince’s back. A gorgeous pair of large aquamarine wings with a golden design that could easily belong to the most beautiful butterfly.

His nails were sharpened, like tiny but deadly blades, and his ears were more pointed.

But that wasn’t all.

Tentatively, Jaskier gave an embarrassed smile and it was impossible not to notice. His teeth were also _sharp_ , like fangs.

Geralt could do nothing but watch. So, this was the prince’s secret.

Everything clicked into place.

“That explains a lot.” He said slowly and felt the corner of his mouth lift with a small, fond smile.

Jaskier let out a sigh of relief and relaxed visibly as he looked at Geralt’s reassuring expression.

But it didn’t last long. 

“Ugh! It’s disgusting!” The lord snapped – when he stopped gaping from the shock – outraged and horrified like most of his guests. “Guards! Guards! I order you to get that out of my sight now! Get them!”

From all the corners and hidden doors of the huge room, armoured men carrying long halberds and swords were suddenly running towards Geralt and Jaskier.

“Get them both!”

“No!”

The prince moved to reach for Geralt and Geralt did the same. Their hands were just about to touch, but the guards were faster and better armed. They blocked them, grabbing their arms and torso, and dragged them away from each other. 

“That magic trick alters nothing. This marriage is binding, and that makes me king!” The lord turned towards the altar to take the coronation crown and put it on his own head. “See? See?”

“Stop! Let go of me, you bastards! Geralt!” Jaskier struggled to free himself, but then one of the guards seized his wing and the prince cried out.

“Jaskier!” Geralt’s vision went red with rage and he tried again to reach for his sword like he did before, but there were still too many men on him. He punched one of them and then another, but more guards came to help, as if materializing out of thin air. “Get out of my way!”

“I’ll make you regret the day we met, witcher.” Lord Valdo Marx declared, shaking his fist in front of himself. “I’ll see you drawn and quartered! You’ll beg for death to save you!”

“NO! Geralt!”

“And as for _you_ , my wife…” the lord pulled out a knife from one of his men’s belt and pointed it against the prince’s throat.

“Jaskier!” Geralt screamed, still trying to fight his way out of the guards’ hold.

“I’ll have you locked back in that tower for the rest of your days! I am king! I will have order, I will have perfection! I will have–”

The lord was cut off when the glass of all the huge windows was shattered by an unseen, external force.

The guests jerked from their seats and began to scream more loudly than before. They ran off, as far away as possible from the approaching and glowing purple fog.

The guards got distracted by the appearance of a woman in the middle of it and Geralt took advantage of this, as he finally managed to draw his sword.

His grip on the hilt was tight as he started to counterattack. 

Through the corner of his eye, he looked at Jaskier, who seemed to be rather lost and shaken, but at least the guards had let go of him. They waved their swords at the purple air around them, as if they were foolish enough to think they could harm something that had the consistency of a cloud. Obviously, they achieved no success.

Lord Valdo Marx kept shouting more orders and insults at his men, until the fog enveloped him completely and swallowed his last words.

Only then Geralt breathed a sigh of relief.

The few guards who were still there and could still fight tried to raise their weapons against the sorceress. However, they were soon discouraged by her penetrating glare and ran away.

Slowly, the supernatural fog disappeared.

Yennefer smirked, satisfied, as she shot a glance at the witcher and at the prince.

With a flick of her head, she pushed her long raven hair over her shoulder. “Thank me later. Now, go ahead.”

Geralt gave her a look, but soon turned his attention back to the butterfly prince. Carefully, but with determination, he reached out to brush his fingers with Jaskier’s and then took his hand in his. 

“Jaskier…”

The prince still had a confused expression on his face and probably had questions he wanted to ask, but he seemed to push them aside for time being, as he turned to meet Geralt’s gaze. “Yes, Geralt?”

Geralt was once again captured by the sight of his wide, deep blue seas. How could anyone think those were the eyes of a monster? Jaskier was the most stunning, brave, amazing creature he had ever met. He had known it before seeing this part of him and nothing had changed. If anything, the prince was even more gorgeous. He truly wished he knew a way to tell Jaskier all of that. 

Unfortunately, Geralt wasn’t good with words. But if there was something he needed to say, that would be… “I love you.”

Jaskier looked as if something had just taken his breath away. 

“Really?” He asked in a whisper, not sure if he could trust his ears.

“Really.” Geralt whispered back, without a hint of hesitation, and smiled at him.

Jaskier returned the smile, with a fond look on his face and small tears in the corners of his eyes. “I love you, too.”

Geralt’s heart felt light and warm and alive again the very instant he heard those words spoken by that lovely voice he enjoyed so much.

The prince lifted his hands to rest them on his broad chest and, as if driven by some instinct, Geralt’s arms wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, careful not to touch his wings.

They both leant forward and melted against each other. Body against body. Lips against lips.

But soon – too soon – Geralt felt the prince slip from the kiss and the embrace.

As those tiny stars appeared again all around him, he was lifted in the air.

“ _Until you find true love’s first kiss and then take love’s true form._ ”

While floating, Jaskier’s skin glowed with a golden light, brighter than before.

It was too much. Again, Geralt had to put his arm over his eyes because he couldn’t look.

_Take love’s true form_

_Take love’s true form_

The verses echoed in the huge hall, until the light faded. Slowly, the prince descended to the floor and his motionless body just lay down there. Not even his wings – which were still there – moved.

Geralt approached cautiously. “Jaskier?”

His heart filled with worry when the prince didn’t respond and he crouched down beside him.

“Jaskier, are you all right?”

The prince blinked a few times and finally opened his eyes. Still completely as blue as the immense ocean.

“Well, yes.” He mumbled, standing up as Geralt helped him. Then, he looked down at himself, at his hands with sharp nails, and he could probably still feel the fangs in his mouth. Confusion was written all over his face. “But I don’t understand. I’m supposed to become my true self.”

Geralt sighed and shook his head slightly. “Jaskier, no one can decide who you should be. Not even a powerful spell.”

“Listen to your darling witcher, prince.” 

A female voice spoke behind them.

Jaskier seemed to have just remembered the mysterious, purple-eyed woman was there. “Excuse me, dear lady, I think I didn’t catch your name.”

“She’s Yennefer of Vengerberg.” Geralt replied for her.

The prince turned to him. “So, you know her?”

“Yes.” Geralt nodded and shot a glance at the sorceress. Maybe he understood now. “And I think she knows who cast the spell on you.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened at the sudden revelation, and he looked back at Yennefer as soon as he heard her voice again.

“It’s true.” She confirmed. “I know the mage who did this and I promise she had good intentions, but things got a bit out of control and she… made a mistake.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called now?” The prince scoffed, his voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Making me change who I am against my will, forcing me to hide away from the world and locking me in a tower guarded by a dragon?”

“To be fair, those were your parents’ doing.”

“I– well, you’re not wrong.” Jaskier used to feel a strong hate towards whoever had done this to him, but he knew they were not the only one at fault. “Can you… do you also know how to break the spell?”

“I can’t do anything.” Yennefer had a hint of resentment in her gaze, almost invisible to the human eye, even though it was gone quickly. “But _you_ can.”

The prince’s face lit up. “What? How?”

“Magic flows through your veins. Use it wisely and remember who you are is your choice to make.”

“And no matter what you choose…” Geralt said, as he gently took both of Jaskier’s hands in his and looked at him with nothing but fondness. “I will always love you.”

Jaskier’s lips trembled as he met his amber gaze. “You bastard.” He sobbed and had to let go of one of Geralt’s hands to wipe the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. “And you claim to be no good with words.”

Geralt felt an overwhelming wave of love and gratitude coming from him. “I had a good teacher.”

Jaskier gave him a smile. A dangerous, sharp, beautiful smile. Then, he took Geralt’s hands again and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tried to concentrate.

Magic. He had felt it in the past, just once in a while in all those years after he found out he had been cursed. A strange sensation he had thought he couldn’t control.

Geralt squeezed his hands to encourage him. And he took strenght from there. From the feeling of being accepted and loved without conditions.

As if on cue, the skin of his hands began to glow and soon his whole body emitted a soft, yellow light.

Geralt didn’t have to avert his gaze this time. Besides, he couldn’t have even if he had wanted to. The sight was too breathtaking.

As quickly as it came, the light disappeared.

And with it, so did the sharp nails and the pointed ears, which had all become more human.

Jaskier blinked slowly. He had pupils and the sclera again.

Geralt smiled proudly at him, and then noticed something behind the prince.

“And the wings?”

Jaskier looked over his own shoulder and shrugged. “I like them.”

“Hmm.” Geralt tried not to show too much enthusiasm, but deep down he had hoped the prince would keep them.

“You know, Geralt,” Jaskier turned to him and raised a hand to cup his face, “I’m not sure what was the aim of the sorceress who did this to me. But if she really wanted to help me find my true love, well, we can say she did succeed in the end.”

Geralt leant into the touch and put his hands on the prince’s hips, gently guiding him closer. “That she did.”

They heard a loud whinny across the now almost empty hall and saw Roach trotting towards them. She looked very excited, as if she had been waiting for this for ages.

Geralt snorted at her and Jaskier chuckled.

Then, the prince turned to Geralt again and leant forward to make their noses brush.

He still smelled like flowers. No. Like a sweet sunflower. And magic.

Geralt held him close and Jaskier cupped his face with both hands. They kissed, and this time no star appeared, except for those in the sky.

Happiness seeped through Geralt’s heart and he already knew that he would never forget the feeling of having his love in his arms.

The prince who made him _believe_.

***

**And they lived happily ever after.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn’t like a happy cliché as a conclusion of a fairy tale? Apparently, not me. Certainly not when these two boys are involved. They both deserve all the happiness, am I right or am I right?
> 
> Also, I’m gonna leave here the lyrics of the song “I’m a Believer” by Smash Mouth, which in my opinion is perfect for Geralt’s POV in this story (and has inspired me to write it):
> 
> _I thought love was only true in fairy tales  
>  Meant for someone else but not for me  
> Love was out to get me  
> That's the way it seemed  
> Disappointment haunted all of my dreams_
> 
> _Then I saw his face, now I'm a believer  
>  Not a trace, of doubt in my mind  
> I'm in love, and I'm a believer  
> I couldn't leave him if I tried_
> 
> _I thought love was more or less a giving thing  
>  The more I gave the less I got oh yeah  
> What's the use in tryin'  
> All you get is pain  
> When I wanted sunshine I got rain_
> 
> _Then I saw his face, now I'm a believer  
>  Not a trace, of doubt in my mind  
> I'm in love, I'm a believer  
> I couldn't leave him if I tried_
> 
> (Yeah, I changed the pronouns from female to male, because… Geraskier. XD)


End file.
